Customer Reviews

The Sirian Experiments (Canopus in Argos)

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The Empire of Sirius, formerly the enemy of Canopus, has now for some time been its uneasy and mistrustful ally. Though highly advanced technologically, and despite being sophisticated social engineers, the Sirians are suffering some upheaval because of the many members of their population who feel that their life lacks a worthy purpose. Ambien II, a member of the Five who govern the Empire, is befriended by Klorathy, an agent of Canopus, in the course of their mutual dealings upon and around the planet Rohanda. Ambien II's education in the means and motives of Canopus, and her eventual realisation that, doubtless unique in the history of galactic diplomacy, Canopus means what it says and does what it promises, is the major subject of The Sirian Experiments. Doris Lessing has written, "I could like Ambien II better than I do;" which is a pity, for Ambien II, along with Rachel Sherban in Shikasta and the incensed innocent Incent in The Sentimental Agents in the Volyen Empire, is one of the most appealing characters in the quintet. Her growth from efficient, obedient social scientist (who deplores the changing of our planet's name from Rohanda (Fertile) to Shikasta (Wounded) as showing "a mixture of poeticism and pedantry typical of Canopus") into willing pupil, sometime rescuer, and eventually into that amazing paradox, the clear-headed visionary, is a triumph of characterisation. Her report - careful, thorough, just and drily humorous - betters Shikasta in its fusion of the personal with the cosmic, and contains one of the most spectacular set-pieces in the whole series, as well as some of its most poignant personal encounters. The ending is quietly ironic, without the sense of definite progress which was present at the end of the previous two books - the major breakthrough here takes place inside Ambien II herself, though further, exterior victories may just possibly be on the way. This book (not to mention the quintet as a whole) is the kind of thing science fiction was meant to be all about.

This was the first Doris Lessing book I ever read. Because the protagonist is a dry technocrat, the writing is written in that style. Nevertheless, I found the book gripping. Lessing gives a fascinating and enlightening perspective of the development of human society as a whole. Of course, the awakening that takes place in the protagonist's mind as she works with the Canopeans has its own gems of wisdom buried in it. Of the five books in Canopus in Argos: Archives, this one is my favorite.

At heart, this book is about how people see themselves and each other. The form of the story is a first-person journal, written in a deliberately academic tone.

The content, though, is one person's total change of her place in her world. The writer's initial view looks down on the world around her, as filled with inferior beings. After some time and much confusion, she learns to look up towards the higher qualities she might aspire to.

The crucial moment in the book may be the phrase, "They should be treated as they treat others." Of course, the author (at that point) can not say "I should be treated ..." From then on, the author's broadening of view accelerates. Lessing may romanticize personal advancement, but is brutally honest about the costs that it can entail.

Lessing carefully paces the book to end at the highest point of the story. It's a pleasant change from authors who run out of things to say 50 or 100 pages before reaching the back cover. A small accident of history mars the book only slightly. Many years after the book was written, a new sleep medication was put on the market: Ambien, the name Lessing coincidentally assigned her protagonist. This book has a few slow moments, when that accident of name seemed apt. Still, this is an excellent book for unhurried reading.

As with some other reviewers, this was my first Doris Lessing book, and it was a very pleasant surprise. It's not science fiction in the sense of speculative fiction -- it's more of a satire and allegory. While I don't disagree with the reviewers who mention that the main plot of the story is the narrator's inner development, the book is also about much more than that. It has many insightful observations on colonialism, economic growth, bureaucratic politics, the purpose of work and how social change begins, among other topics -- and is more entertaining than preachy in presenting them. (Caveat: if, like the NY Times reviewer of this book when it came out, you require that social commentary in a novel be expressed as a fully-developed philosophical system like Kant's or someone's, you may be disappointed.) The narrator's is not the only character to develop. There are several suspenseful sections, along with many beautifully-crafted descriptions. And at a purely science fiction level, it includes the very plausible observation that the most difficult part of dealing with beings from different planets is adjusting to their respective smells. A book I was sorry to see end; I ordered another in the Canopus in Argos series immediately on doing so.

I read this book to see how a Nobel Prize winning author would treat the

science fiction genre. Science fiction is often the platform from which

an author launches an examination of big social issues, and so it is

here as Lessing looks at questions of colonization, attitudes of

"advanced" nations to less civilized peoples, the problems of a society

whose technical achievements have far outrun its ethical evolution. And

some authors (for example, le Guin or Brin) can at the same time deliver

a gripping story with believable, if alien, characters whose fate we

care about. But Lessing cannot.

The narrator is a powerful administrator of a vast empire whose story

is a memoir covering her meddling in the affairs of a pseudo Earth. She

writes in wooden, deadly prose, many passages in the passive voice, of

experiments on various planets involving lower animals, of projects

interfering with civilizations and people, of social upheavals and

planetary engineering, anonymous and colorless. Her language isn't

any better when she writes of her own situation: for example "The other

was Klorathy, who I understood as I thought of him would not regard this

little servant of even the most horrible power with anything but - at

most - a detached dislike." Of course, this awkward stuff is supposed

to reflect the narrator's shriveled personality; but why subject readers

to such insult? One does not have to look far in Earth's history to

find officials of great empires who wrote with vigor and eloquence.

A novel must contain believable characters and situations to retain our

interest; this one does not. Ambien II, one of five ruling Sirian

autocrats exhibits astounding incompetence: she, potentially immortal,

visits primitive societies alone and unprotected, sets foot alone in the

empire of the Incas professing to know hardly anything about them (yet

speaking their language) and is almost sacrificed - she had no emergency

plan, nothing to fall back on, incredible in an individual responsible

for planning Galactic enterprises. Her job calls for her to undertake

organizing construction work on a barren planet by crews of apes in space

suits press-banged from a backward planet; or performing "scientific"

experiments on altitude adaptation with another unfortunate species.

This in an empire that can move planets out of their orbits and travel

between the stars! Lessing and Ambien II are as ignorant of Newton as

they are of Darwin, making references to "science" in the story

utterly laughable.

Ambien II's moral education throughout the book is at the hands of

superior being who employs that highly over-rated, low-bit-rate scheme,

the Socratic method, in which the answers are dragged from within the

pupil, never given to her straight out. It is a frustrating experience

for everyone concerned, especially the reader.

I have a large library. I find myself recommending this book over and over. Moreover, the sender sent me a first edition.